Christmas in Sherwood
by I am The Lev
Summary: In which Djaq learns about Christmas traditions, Much goes in hunt of the perfect Christmas dinner, Morgan plays a yuletide matchmaker, and Guy of Gisborne buys a bird, amongst other things. A series of Christmas oneshots starring our favorite outlaws!
1. Mistletoe

**Mistletoe**

Will liked Christmas, though it wasn't for the reasons that most people enjoyed the holiday. Most people enjoyed the feasts and the presents. Will had never really had any of that growing up. True, when he had been a lot younger, before the Crusades, before Robin had left Locksley, he had fed them Christmas dinner. Will was appreciative of the food, but it still wasn't his favorite part of Christmas.

He stared at the deer before him, slowly drawing his bow. It could be their Christmas dinner. Still, the feeling at the bottom of his stomach told him that it would not be the case. The uneasy feeling manifested as Morgan, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, hanging upside down from an overhanging tree branch, dangling a plant above Will's head.

"Look, Will! Mistletoe!" she proclaimed. Will remained unmoving as the deer bounded off across the snow. He liked Morgan, but he often asked himself why he allowed her to go hunting with him. He sighed, years of manners keeping him from snapping at Morgan.

"Morgan, that's not mistletoe. That's holly," he calmly pointed out, trying not to laugh at the sight of the girl in the tree. She was just like a squirrel.

"Oh," she muttered in disappointment, looking at the plant in her hand. "Did we catch the deer?" Will raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. I'll go get Djaq, then?" Morgan didn't wait for an answer before she pulled herself back onto the tree branch and running back to camp. Will shook his head, curbing the smile that was tugging at his lips. Bringing Morgan hunting was like a coin. On the one side, it always took longer to actually catch anything. On the other, she always seemed to know when she was grating on Will's nerves and would go back to camp, sending Djaq in her stead.

He knew that Morgan did it on purpose. She knew that he was in love with Djaq, just like he knew about her and Allan. If losing a deer or two meant that he'd get to spend time with Djaq, he wasn't about to complain. Morgan often asked him why he didn't just ask Djaq to go in the first place. Will never answered the question, though the answer was simple. He didn't want to be obvious.

Even so, as Djaq came about the bend, the snow crunching lightly under her feet, he couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"Ten whole minutes," she was saying. "A new record." She had a blanket pulled tight around her, shivering a little.

"I do not understand that appeal of all this snow," she chattered.

"It's a part of Christmas," Will replied. In a larger sense, it was technically part of winter, but snow was one of the things that Will had always loved and associated with Christmas. There was something cleansing about snow. It was like the white powder allowed a temporary cover for all the problems in the world.

"Ah, the Christmas," Djaq nodded. "Everyone seems excited about it. Much was trying to tell me about all the traditions. Carols and boars and presents."

"That's not what it's about," Will answered without thinking. Djaq looked at him expectantly, and he knew that he'd stepped in it. No going back now.

"Christmas is a celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus. It's not about the food and the presents and the bad singing," he paused as Djaq laughed at the illusion to Much's infamous voice. "Those are just traditions. It's about your friends and your loved ones and telling them how much they mean to you." Will stopped, sneaking a sideways glance at Djaq. It felt like butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in his stomach. God, how he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her like he'd never loved anyone before. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful. He wanted to tell her that, to him, she was perfect in everyway.

He almost did. He almost blurted his thoughts out, no matter how loudly his brain told him the timing wasn't right. Perhaps his brain was right, because at that moment there was the sound of a creaking tree branch. Suddenly, there was a very pleased looking Morgan hanging upside down over Will and Djaq. _I'm going to kill her_, Will thought.

"Look! Mistletoe!" she announced happily, dangling a new plant over them. Djaq wrinkled her nose in the cute way that she always did when she was confused, which wasn't very often.

"Mistletoe?" she asked. Will suddenly realized what Morgan was doing, and a hue as red as his named flooded his face. _I'm going to kill her_.

"It's just another tradition," he muttered. "If two people get under the mistletoe together… they're… well, normally, they're…"

"They're supposed to kiss!" Morgan supplied excitedly, shaking the plant as if prompting them to get on with it. _Absolutely, positively kill her._

"Well, who are we to break a tradition?" Djaq asked, and before Will knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. They sat there for what seemed like glorious minutes before Djaq stood, staring into the trees.

"I think I see a deer. Come on," she urged, sneaking off into the woods. Will stared after Djaq before glancing up at Morgan, who was still hanging upside down.

"I'm going to kill you," he whispered. Morgan laughed, flipping out of the tree.

"Sure you will. I'm off to see Allan. Happy Christmas, Will!" she waved the mistletoe over her shoulder, disappearing into the woods. Will's hand moved to his cheek, the blush returning to his face as he savored the memory of the kiss. _Maybe I won't kill her, _he mused, following after Djaq.

---

Whee! I know, I know, using the mistletoe tradition was anachronistic of me. Given the fun WillDjaq moment that it created, I don't think anyone will care. XD

More Christmas oneshots are on the way! If you have any requests or suggestions, let me know. I'll try to work them in. I still don't have any solid plans from Robin and Marian, so any help you guys want to give me will be appreciated.

I'll try to post one mini-story a week, kind of like a Christmas countdown or something, but don't hold me to that. Hope you guys enjoy!


	2. The Yule Boar

**The Yule Boar**

"Because, Master, it is Christmas!" Much explained. Robin shook his head.

"Sorry, Much. Even if it is Christmas, we can take money from the poor chest to buy ourselves a Christmas dinner," he sighed. Much rolled his eyes. He, of course, understood Robin's reasoning, but that didn't change the fact that it was Christmas, and they had nothing to eat. Will and Djaq had returned with a deer, but what kind of Christmas dinner was venison? Much nodded, making up his mind.

"I shall go and fetch a boar!" he announced, gathering his things and marching out of the camp before anyone could do anything to talk him out of it.

---

Why hadn't he waited long enough to let them talk him out of it? Much pulled his cloak tightly around his body, shivering. It was absolutely freezing! No to mention it was dead quiet. He should've at least brought someone with him. He peered around the forest. He could go back, convince someone to go with him, but he decided against it. If he went back, he wasn't likely to go back into the cold.

Besides, this was his Christmas present to the rest of the gang. They hadn't had pork in a very long time, and it was a Christmas tradition. Much took a few steps forward, squinting as the wind picked up, biting at his exposed skin as he trudged along, searching for the perfect boar for Christmas dinner.

There was the crunching of snow behind him, and he spun on heel, drawing his sword. He relaxed, seeing that it was only Morgan, sipping towards him, looking very pleased with herself.

"Much! Much! Much!" she cried, bounding exuberantly around him.

"Morgan, Morgan, Morgan?" Much returned. She was so odd. She seized his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.

"Much, I know it's early, but I've got your Christmas present!" She announced.

"Well, thank you, Morgan, but I can't come see right now. I'm on the hunt," Much said, puffing his chest out and drawing himself up to his full height.

"With just your sword? What are you going to do, tackle the deer? Not being funny, but I've tried that. Doesn't work," Morgan admitted, tapping the side of her nose knowingly. Much realized with a small groan that he hadn't brought a bow and arrow. Morgan seemed to sense his disappointment, removing the bow and quiver from her own back.

"Just take mine, but if I let you borrow my bow, you have to come see my surprise," she haggled, holding the bow and quiver in front of her. Much took the weapons, giving Morgan invitation to grab him by the arms and pull him along as she dashed through the woods. "You won't regret it; I promise!" she laughed.

"You didn't cook something, did you? Because I think I might regret that very much," Much muttered under his breath. Morgan either didn't hear or didn't care. Much wasn't sure how long they'd been running, but he was sure that they had passed out of Nottinghamshire, and he was sure that he had a terrible stitch. Morgan finally stopped, pointing excitedly. They were on a small hill, overlooking a very small village.

"There," Morgan said, pointing at one of the tiny cottages.

"You've bought me a house?" Much asked, "Well, that is very kind of you, Morgan, but I don't think we'll all fit in there." Morgan gave him a playful swat to the back of the head, putting a finger over her lips to shush him.

"Just sit and wait for a minute," she giggled, as if they were on the verge of some great secret, and she could barely resist giving the game away. Much listened to her, though he wasn't sure why. The girl, he was sure, wasn't entirely sane. After a few minutes, he shook his head impatiently.

"Morgan, this is nice, whatever it is, but I'm losing light," he muttered, turning to go. Something stopped him. It could very well have been the fact that Morgan had stomped on his foot to stop him from walking off, but Much had a hunch that it was the familiar tune that floated over the wind.

A woman was coming out of the small house, making her way up the hill, where Morgan was waving like some kind of maniac. Even though she was still a distance away, he knew who she was.

"Happy Christmas, Much," Morgan whispered in his ear, hastily dashing into the woods. The woman was only a few steps away now, and he could see her beautiful smile, her gorgeous eyes. He could hear quite plainly the gentle hum of a tune he'd learned and kept close to his heart.

"Happy Christmas, Lord Much," she said, politely curtsying before hugging him tightly. He returned the hug in full.

"Happy Christmas, Eve," he whispered.

---

He couldn't believe that he was sitting across from her in a warm cottage, the smell of food filling the room.

"You can't imagine how distraught I was at first. I was hanging laundry, and she came out of nowhere," Eve began with a smile.

"Yeah, she tends to do that," Much laughed. Eve paused to turn the boar that was roast over the fire.

"She must've rambled on for ten minutes about the song that I was singing and true love and how it must've been fate that she'd gotten lost," she smiled, sitting back down.

"Yeah, she tends to do that, too," Much nodded.

"I thought she was a loony, but then she mentioned your name. I know that you said that you'd come and find me, but I couldn't wait to see you again, and she was more than happy to help."

"I'm glad that you couldn't wait," Much smiled. "And you were right. She is a loony." Eve laughed, reminding Much of the night in the bath. His last night at Bonchurch.

"I miss you, Much. Every day. With every thought," she confessed, the laughter still in her eyes.

"And I miss you, Eve," he replied. It was a simple exchange, and the kiss that followed was also a simple one. Much supposed that it was the epitome of their feelings. They were simple feelings, but they were pure and true. The worst part of the meeting was its inevitable end. Much lingered in the doorway, holding her hand.

"When will I see you again?" she asked.

"I will come and find you," he replied.

"When there is justice again?" she smiled, remembering their last parting.

"Perhaps before," he amended, "Definitely before."

---

Much carefully dragged the small wheelbarrow through the forest. Just as he had stepped out of Eve's house, a boar sauntered carelessly over the small hill overlooking the village. He nodded contentedly. It had been fate. Fate had led him back to Eve. Fate had made sure that he could bring home a Yule boar. God, how he loved Christmas.


	3. Father Christmas

**Father Christmas**

He hadn't thought about Christmas as a family affair, not until he found out that he had a son, anyway. He shook his head at the irony of it. He thought of Christmas as a family time now, but he couldn't see his family. He amended that thought. He couldn't see his wife and his son. He missed Alice a great deal, and he thought of her and John every day, but they weren't his only family.

He glanced around the camp. Much was sprinkling herbs over the boar that he'd brought back with him. Little John could smell the pork, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation.

"Much, can't you cook that outside?" Morgan complained, rolling about on her loft bed.

"It's cold outside," Much stated flatly.

"Yes, but the whole camp is going to smell like pork for hours, and I'm hungry already," the girl replied, clutching her stomach for effect. Much plugged his ears with his fingers, humming very loudly. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to listen to her, Morgan threw him a pouty look before bundling up and exiting the camp via the window. Much smiled triumphantly, giving his attention back to his cooking.

Little John tried not to laugh at the pair of them. They were just like children. The mention of children returned his thoughts to his son, and he shook his head. All he really wanted was to give his son a proper Christmas gift, to see his face light up. Of course, John wasn't quite sure what he would give his son if he had the opportunity to see him, but that was a minor detail.

"John?" He turned at the mention of his name. Marian was standing there, holding a large bag. This puzzled John, but he was sure she would explain if he only remained silent. "Would you mind helping me?" This was a silly question. Little John was always willing to help, unless it was one of Morgan's bizarre schemes; he just didn't get involved. Perhaps Marian sensed that he was indeed willing to help her, for she continued to talk as if he'd accepted.

"Every year, I hand out little toys to some of the children in the villages. Obviously, I can't go this year, as I am supposed to be at Ripley Convent," she explained. "Would you mind taking the toys?" She held the bag towards him, and he considered it for a moment before taking it out of her hands, nodding.

"That I can do," he reassured.

"Thank you, John. I'd go myself, but I have to go to the Convent. Gisborne plans to visit there," she sighed, the smile on her face drooping. Little John gave her a quick bear hug before he headed out the door.

"Morgan, we go to the villages!" he announced as he spotted the blacksmith. She was hanging upside down from a tree branch, doing sit-ups to keep warm.

"Why?" she asked, which wasn't the answer that Little John wanted to hear. Without hesitation, he threw an arm around her middle, pulling her out of the tree, carrying her upside down. She didn't seem bothered by this, but Little John had noticed that only three things really bothered the girl at all: People talking trash about Allan, The Sheriff, and people talking trash about Allan. She tugged at the sack of toys that John had slung over his back.

"What's this, then?" she asked.

"Toys for the children," he replied, jokingly wondering if he should give Morgan and Much toys if he had any left afterwards. Morgan nodded, slipping out of his grip, tumbling to the ground. She quickly scrambled to her feet, brushing the snow from her clothes as she walked.

"You, Little John, are a good man," she complimented.

---

"Is that everyone?" Morgan asked, making a kind of saluting gesture, her hand lingering at her forehead, as if it would improve her vision. Little John reached into the bag and handed the last little boy a pennywhistle. The boy smiled up, muttering his thanks. It was the look that Little John had imagined on the face of his son. The little boy scampered off, playing a tune on the pennywhistle, leaving Little John with his thoughts.

"Let's go home," he muttered, "before we're seen." Morgan gave him a sort of analytical look, but followed his orders, traipsing back towards Sherwood.

"John, we never talk," she commented, sliding her hands into her coat pockets, trying to keep them from falling off.

"We talk all the time, Morgan," he contested. Morgan shook her head.

"No. Usually, I talk, and you laugh and nod and what have you. We never talk about you," she sighed, fixing him with the look of dogged determination that told him that nothing short of burying her in the snow was going to get her to drop it.

"What about me?" he asked.

"You know. About how you're feeling, who you're thinking about. That sort of thing," Morgan prodded.

"Men don't talk about feelings," John countered simply. Morgan shrugged.

"Fine. Then I'll do the talking." For a moment, he thought that he'd gotten off the hook. For a moment, anyway.

"I put it to you that you miss someone a great deal. I'm guessing that it's your wife and your son," she began, glancing up to check for a reaction before she continued. "And watching you hand out those toys to those kids was the sweetest thing I've ever seen, because it made you feel better. You gave that last kid such a dad look that I half-expected you to hug the little bugger." Little John chuckled, looking down at Morgan.

"It's natural for a father to miss his son," he pointed out.

"Aye, I didn't say it wasn't. I'm only saying that you give all of us the same look," she observed. "So, are we like your adopted children or something?"

"Watch it, Morgan," Little John warned, though she had pretty much hit the nail on the head. He did miss Alice and John, even more as it drew closer and closer to Christmas, but in a way, he didn't have the opportunity to be sad about it. The outlaws _were_ like his adopted children. Morgan seemed to know that she was onto something, because she grinned widely.

"So, me father at Christmas, have you got a present for me?" John looked at the large, empty sack, contemplating how very big it was. He gave Morgan a sly look, contemplating how very small she was.

"John, what's that look?" Morgan asked suspiciously. For a man his size, Little John was quite quick.

---

As he returned to the camp, Much glanced up from the nearly cooked boar, staring in confusion at the large sack that the woodsman ceremoniously hung on one of the support beams.

"Is that something else for dinner? Should I be ready to skin and cook some other great animal?" Much asked. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when Morgan's frustrated shouts came from the sack.

"You do that, and I'll put me boot in your teeth!" Much shot a look at Little John, who merely sat down by the fire, smiling cheerily.

"Little John! Let me out! I was only joking!" Morgan shouted. The back began to move as she thrashed about inside. She sooned calmed down, trying a different approach "Happy Christmas?" Little John continued to smile. Happy Christmas, indeed.

---

Originally, I was going to have Little John go visit his wife and kids, but then I figured, "Why make him walk all that way when he has a whole gang of kids right there?"

Yeah, I know that using Father Christmas was anachronistic. But it was Christmas! Why not? Besides, we all know that Little John would make the perfect Santa. Search your feelings; you know it to be true.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Please review!


	4. Snowballs

**Snowballs**

Marian was glad that it was over. The meeting with Guy at Ripley Convent was absolutely nerve-wracking. Allan hadn't been able to saddle the horses fast enough, when Guy had finally decided to leave. As soon as they were out of sight, Marian thanked the Mother Superior for her troubles, left a purse full of coins, and walked out of the nunnery. It was snowing outside, and Marian pulled her cloak around her, smiling as the snowflakes fell on her outstretched palm.

She was halfway back to the camp when she heard a high pitched scream. She rushed forward, the snow crunching under her boots as she ran, bursting into a clearing, her hand on the hilt of her knife. To her surprise, she found only Morgan, who had her hands held high.

"I surrender! I surrender!" she giggled, letting out a shriek as Robin pelted her with another snowball.

"What's that, Morgan? I didn't hear you?" he asked, grinning like a little boy and he packed another ball of snow in his hands. Marian rolled her eyes, quickly stooping forward and scooping a considerable amount of snow, shaping it into a snowball and letting it fly. It hit Robin square in the face, allowing Morgan time to shout a rushed "Thanks! Happy Christmas!" to Marian as she ran back to the camp.

"Try picking on someone your own size, Locksley!" Marian called at Robin, who was wiping the snow from his facial hair. Not giving him the chance to recover, she lobbed a second snowball, dashing behind a tree for cover. She wondered momentarily who had started this childish game. It could've been Morgan, who lived her life with carefree abandon, but Marian knew that it had been Robin, who, for all his maturity, managed to remain a child. She heard a soft _thunk_ and saw the snow erupt as it smashed into the tree.

Suddenly, it was just like when they were young. She fondly remembered the winters they had spent. The days when there parents would have their grown-up visits, and she and Robin would dash out into the snow, still throwing their scarves on. Much would always follow them, though he was less enthusiastic about snowball fights, choosing instead to create entire families of snowmen and snowwomen and snowchildren while his master and Marian attacked one another.

Another snowball exploded against the side of the tree, jerking Marian from her reminiscing. She made another snowball, stepping out from behind the tree. She ducked as a white ball of powder flew at her head, taking the opportunity to pitch her own snowball at Robin. She smiled with satisfaction as she hit him square in the chest, allowing herself a victorious laugh.

"Ease up, Marian!" Robin whined, ducking as she threw another snowball.

"Why? Afraid I'll best you, just like when we were little?" she asked, twisting to the side to avoid a snowball.

"I let you win!" Robin shouted back, grinning widely. This cocky grin cost him another snowball to the face.

"I believe you," Marian returned sarcastically. Robin sputtered as he wiped the snow from his face. "Give up?" Robin shook his head.

"Never!" he proclaimed valiantly. His courage was rewarded with two snowballs hitting him in either shoulder.

"Okay! Okay! I surrender!" he managed before another blob of snow covered his face.

"What's that, Robin? I can't hear you!" Marian taunted, hitting him with another snowball. Yes, it was extremely childish, but what harm could come of it?

---

Marian covered her nose as she sneezed, pulling her blanket tight around her. Much handed her a bowl of soup, shaking his head and handing another bowl to Robin, who was similarly sneezing and shivering.

"I don't know what's wrong with you two!" he tutted under his breath. He pointed at Marian. "You should know better than to go running around in the snow without gloves or a scarf or a proper coat." Marian smiled sheepishly, sipping at her soup.

"And you should know better than to start a snowball fight with Marian! After all the times she bested you when we were little!" Much shook his head.

"I let her win," Robin corrected, sounding congested from the cold. Much rolled his eyes, scoffing in disbelief.

"I believe you," he chuckled sarcastically. "Now, drink your soup."

---

Yeah, this one was really short, I know. But I thought it was fun.

We all know that Much was a snowman builder! Don't try to pretend otherwise!

There should be another story later in the week. Hope you guys enjoy! Please review!


	5. Exchange

**Exchange**

The castle was lavishly decorated, and the Great Hall was the pinnacle of the castle staff's efforts. There were wreaths and bows and ribbons everywhere, nearly making the Great Hall look cozy and comfortable. The celebration had started off when the Sheriff had halfheartedly delivered a speech and set the Yule log in the fireplace.

The Sheriff was having a wonderful time, ignoring the habit of a lifetime and enjoying the Christmas festivities. He blamed it less on the "Christmas spirit" and more on the endless supply of Christmas ale.

He'd impatiently unwrapped every present as it came to him, finding many expensive presents, most of which could be melted down into coins later on. The ale was good, the grapes were exquisite, and he hadn't heard a word about Robin Hood and his stupid gang all night.

"I like this. This is good," he decided aloud, drinking his ale. Gisborne was trying to push through the crowd, largely inconvenienced by the large, covered something that he had in tow. He was having very little success. The Sheriff watched the boy struggle for several minutes before giving up, melting back into the crowd. The Sheriff shook his head. The boy did try so very hard.

The Sheriff turned his attention to the noble that had just appeared at his left. The truth was that the noble had been there the whole time, but he had just now pulled out a very elegantly wrapped gift. The Sheriff took it, not bothering to mutter a "thank you." That's what he had Allan for.

"Thank you, on behalf of the Sheriff. Happy Christmas," Allan repeated for the umpteenth time that night. He didn't seem to mind. The server girls were keeping his goblet full of ale, and if the Sheriff found something that he didn't particularly care for, Allan got to pocket it.

The Sheriff unwrapped the latest present, smirking as the solid gold whatever-it-was fell onto his lap. He picked it up, nodding, obviously pleased. He didn't really care to find out what it was. All he needed to know was that it was made of solid gold. He handed it to Allan, nodding again, and Allan slipped the solid gold whatever it was on top of the "keep" pile.

As the night progressed, and everyone got progressively tipsier, the Sheriff could've sworn that he saw Gisborne trying to push through the crowd again. Again, he watched the man's fruitless struggle, made more difficult when a very drunk Allan proclaimed something about a dance, stirring the entire hall to break into a dance.

Gisborne looked like he was going to hit Allan over the head with the large, covered something that he was carrying, but it was hardly necessary. Allan had tried to stagger onto the dance floor, led by a particularly flirtatious server girl, taken two or three steps, and then abruptly collapsed in a heap on the floor.

The Sheriff laughed so hard that he thought he would choke, his condition exacerbated when Allan was pulled to his feet and led out of the hall by another server girl.

"That's why he's my favorite," the Sheriff chuckled as he calmed down, nudging the nearest noble and pointing after his right hand man's right hand man. The noble laughed, and in turn, so did the server girl next to him. Her laugh stopped the Sheriff's on his lips. It was one of those high-pitched, sort of neighing laughs that he had heard from so many women. He groaned in distaste, sending the girl as far away from him as possible.

"Leper," he muttered under his breath. He glanced around, watching the dance with a considerably dampened spirit. Allan returned shortly after, though he was swaying on his feet. This made the Sheriff laugh again, and he made a mental note to make sure that the boy got a nice, leather coat. One that was even nicer than Gisborne's. He mulled it over in his head. He was sure that he had already told Gisborne to upgrade the boy.

"My lord sheriff," a man said, kneeling before him and presenting him with yet another gift. The Sheriff took it, unwrapping it as Allan tried valiantly to resume his duties as official thanker.

"There's half of a Christmas. Happy Sheriff," he slurred. The Sheriff held up the gift, which was an ornately carved box. There was nothing inside. The Sheriff frowned, handing the box to Allan, who considered it for a moment before placing it rather grandly in the "toss" pile.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Sheriff noticed that Allan was turning rather green, but he was distracted by the sight of Gisborne, who was once again trying to move through the crowd with the large, covered something. This time, the leather-clad left tenet made it all the way to the Sheriff's table before fate thwarted him once more.

"My lord sheriff," he began. He got as far as that before Allan decided that he had had too much to drink, and the Sheriff figured out why the man was so green in the face just half a second too late.

---

The Sheriff was helping himself to breakfast, picking at his venison and eggs, when Gisborne entered, carry the large, covered something.

"Morning, Gisborne. Where's Allan?" The Sheriff asked, chuckling as Guy's eyes darkened.

"He's recuperating, my lord. As you may have noticed, he enjoyed last night's festivities a little too much," he answered, repressing the shudder that cropped up at the memory. "You will recall that he ruined my favorite boots."

"I thought it was funny," the Sheriff muttered, backing up this admission with an amused laugh. Guy sighed.

"My lord, before Allan's… interesting display last night, I meant to present you with this," he said as professionally as possible. "Happy Christmas." The Sheriff ripped the cover off of the cage, revealing a large, magnificent looking bird.

"It's an Egyptian Vulture," Guy explained. "I thought that you'd like it, what with…" he nodded at the birdcages around the room. The Sheriff stared at the bird. It was simply vicious looking.

"Gisborne, it's lovely," he breathed, thoroughly impressed. He suddenly realized that Guy was staring expectantly at him. What did he want? Certainly, the man wasn't naïve enough to expect a present in return.

"Happy Christmas," Guy said again. The Sheriff furrowed his brow.

"Happy Christmas," he said tentatively, as if giving an answer to a question the he wasn't sure about. This seemed to satisfy Guy, who actually allowed himself a grin as he walked from the room. The Sheriff shook his head. Guy had obviously becoming infected with the "Christmas spirit," joy in giving and all that nonsense. The Sheriff shook his head. The poor boy. He did try so very hard.

---

I laugh at Drunk!Allan. Deep down, we all know that Allan would be the guy that had a bit too much too drink at the offices' Christmas party. Bless his heart. XD

At any rate, I really liked the idea of Guy being all in the Christmas spirit, and it occurred to me that the Sheriff would probably be puzzled by the uncharacteristic behavior.

My little brother actually suggested Guy's present. Kudos to him, and so forth.

Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


	6. Family

**Family**

Elene Weaver sat up in her bed, smiling as she gave the brown-haired teenager careful instructions. She'd offered to help him, but he wouldn't hear of it, taking it upon himself to do all of the cleaning and cooking, readying the small cottage for the arrival of their guests.

Hollis frowned. Guests. He wasn't happy about that word. Sure, he was absolutely thrilled that Morgan was coming for Christmas dinner. He'd made sure that everything was perfect. He'd even gone out and hunted down a boar. Elene had told him that Morgan was quite fond of pork. He'd not only cleaned the entire cottage, but he'd gone to the brook and washed until he was squeaky clean himself.

Still, that word bothered him. "Guests" meant more than one. Why did she have to bring _him_? Hollis shook his head and evenly sprinkled herbs over the boar, which had cooked to perfection.

As if cued by the scent of roasted pork, there was a knock at the door. Hollis jumped to his feet, dashing to the door, slicking back his hair before swinging it open. He was rewarded with Morgan, and what appeared to be a stack of parcels with legs.

"Hallo, Hollis," Morgan greeted with a smile, throwing her arms around him, looking over his shoulder. "Hallo, mum."

"Come in and shut the door, you silly girl!" her mother replied in a sort of greeting. Hollis went to the door, slamming it shut in his rival's face.

"Allow me," he muttered, smiling with satisfaction as he heard a muffled yell, knowing that the snow had fallen off of the roof, covering _him_ with snow. At the sound of the yell, Morgan opened the door again, trying not to giggle at the sight of Allan on the ground, covered in snow and the presents that he'd been carrying for her.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," Hollis apologized cheekily as Allan brushed the snow from his person. Morgan quickly picked up the presents from the ground, completely oblivious to the fact that Allan and Hollis had become locked in some sort of staredown. In lieu of a proper greeting, Hollis chose to quickly say his rivals name. "Allan."

"Hollis," Allan returned shortly, narrowing his eyes.

As soon as she'd gathered all of the parcels, she set them inside, beckoning for Allan to follow. He stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him, not breaking the stare that he and Hollis were exchanging, refusing to back down.

"How are you, mum?" Morgan asked, going to the bed and hugging her mother.

"Fine. Hollis has been taking good care of me. He's a good lad, he is," Elene smiled up at her daughter. "If he were older, I'd tell you to marry him." Hollis smiled victoriously at Allan, who merely shot back his trademark grin.

"Actually, Elene, she's already taken," he said, glancing over at Morgan's mother. Morgan held out her hand, showing her mother her engagement ring. Elene's features brightened immediately, while the confident grin fell from Hollis' face.

"It's about time, Allan," Elene laughed, slowly climbing out of her bed. Morgan helped her mother over to Allan, who grinned and gave his future mother-in-law a hug. "You still working for Guy? Does he know you're here?"

"As far as Guy is concerned, I am recovering from a particularly festive party. Unfortunately, we can't stay for the night," he explained. Elene nodded.

"Then, we should get started with our own festivities. Hollis has made a proper Christmas dinner for us, and then we can exchange gifts," Elene said authoritatively, making it easy to see where Morgan had adopted her bossy edge. They sat down around the small table while Hollis set plates down in front of them. They uttered a quick prayer, digging into the pork with gusto.

---

"So, he turns to me and says, 'That's not a cow! That's my wife!'" Allan finished, causing the entire table to laugh. Elene laughed, clapping Allan on the back.

"I've always loved that story," she admitted. "Morgan, why aren't you good at telling stories?" Morgan shrugged, used to her mother's constant criticism, knowing that it was her odd way of saying that she cared. Hollis pushed back from the table, nodding at the stack of presents.

"It's getting late. Maybe we should go ahead and open the presents," he suggested. Morgan smiled, standing and stretching.

"Brilliant idea, Hollis," she agreed, as eager to open presents as he was. "I'll start!" she picked out one of the parcels that they'd brought in, handing it to her mother.

"Happy Christmas, mum," she grinned. Elene unwrapped the parcel, unfolding a thick, warm looking coat. She slipped it on, reveling in the warmth that it offered.

"Thank you, Morgan. It's quite nice," she thanked genuinely. Morgan picked out another package, handing it to Hollis, who unwrapped it with fervor.

"Wow," he breathed, holding the hunting knife near the fire.

"That's from Will and me," Morgan explained. "Will carved the handle, and I made the blade."

"It's amazing!" Hollis thanked, hugging Morgan. "Just like you." He shot a look over Morgan's shoulder, sticking his tongue out at Allan. Allan made sure that Elene wasn't looking before he returned the gesture.

"Hollis, you're so sweet!" Morgan gushed. "Come on, then. You've still got presents to open."

---

Hollis stared at the small pile of presents that he'd unwrapped. A scarf from Much. A new vest from Robin and Marian. Mittens from Djaq. A coat from Little John. The outlaws had also given Elene presents, medicines, food, and a generous amount of money.

"Tell Robin and the rest that we're very grateful," Elene instructed. "Don't forget, Morgan. You're very forgetful."

"I won't forget," Morgan promised, grinning from ear to ear at the pleased expression on her mother's face.

"We've really got to be going, though. It's getting late," Allan reminded.

"Wait," Hollis interrupted, going over to his cot. He reached underneath it, pulling out a folded garment. "This is for you, Morgan. Your mum said that you didn't have one." Allan rolled his eyes at the boy's purposefully innocent tone, but Morgan stepped over, taking the garment and unfolding it, revealing a dress. It was a simple dress, but it was quite pretty. Hollis looked at Morgan expectantly.

"Thank you, Hollis. It's very thoughtful," she said, inspecting the dress.

"You should put it on," Elene suggested, hinting heavily. Morgan shot a glare at Allan, who was doing his best not to crack up.

---

Allan and Hollis waited outside of the cottage while Elene helped a completely clueless Morgan into her Christmas present.

"I don't like you," Hollis muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Not being funny, but you're not my favorite person in the world," Allan returned. They stood in silence for another moment.

"It's Christmas, though, and Christmas is about making the people you love happy, right?" Hollis asked. Allan raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what the kid was trying to say.

"Right," he agreed. Hollis nodded.

"Well, I love Morgan, and for some reason, she loves you. So, if it makes her happy, I guess it wouldn't kill me to be nice to you," Hollis grumbled. He'd so far gone out of his way to inconvenience Allan at every turn.

"I suppose I could be nice to you, if it'll make Morgan happy," Allan grudgingly admitted. Another moment of silence elapsed. "Truce?"

"Truce," Hollis agreed. The door to the cottage swung open, and Morgan stepped out slowly, as if embarrassed by her new attire. Allan and Hollis exchanged significant glances.

"Did you pick that dress on purpose?" Allan asked quietly.

"Yeah," Hollis admitted sheepishly.

"Cheeky beggar," Allan commented with a grin. The dress was a forest green, made of nice material. It was long sleeved, and the hem of the dress hit the ground. At first glance, it didn't look scandalous, but when Allan looked closer, and he was looking, he noticed that it was a very tight-fitting dress, showing off all of the feminine curves that Morgan usually hid under her boyish clothing. It was very sneaky. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad after all.

---

Men are dirty minded. XD

This story came about when I thought of all the family visits that we normally do at Christmas. I have this cousin that I really can't stand, so our visits are always awkward. Thus, this story.

Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


	7. Comfort and Joy

**Comfort and Joy**

"Hold!" Much called, aiming his bow. The woman on the horse, who already looked like she was about to fall off, let out a yelp as the mare whinnied and reared up, sending her tumbling to the forest floor. Much winced. It didn't look like a particularly pleasant fall. The woman stood, brushing snow from the dark green fabric of her dress. Much blushed, noticing that the dress didn't leave much to the imagination.

"I don't want to hurt you," he warned, "but I would like it if you would hand over a tenth of your gold."

"Much, have you gone completely mad?" The woman asked, throwing back her hood to reveal long, raven hair and forest green eyes that were narrowed with annoyance.

"Morgan?" Much asked, lowering his weapon. "What happened to you?" He pointed up and down to indicate her out-of-character attire. Morgan smirked.

"Hollis happened to me. He bought me a dress for Christmas," she explained dryly, picking her satchel from the horse's saddle, walking over to Much. The horse started trotting back to wherever Morgan had acquired it. "Don't quite understand the practicality of it, but maybe we could use it as a disguise to get into the castle." Much understood exactly why Hollis had bought Morgan that dress, but he felt it wise to keep his mouth shut, nodding to agree with her suggestion.

"Have I missed it?" Morgan asked, changing the subject as they picked their way back to camp, stumbling over the hem of her dress.

"No. We were going to exchange gifts at the camp first," Much noted, watching Morgan out of the corner of his eye, grinning as she became frustrated, hiking up the dress so that she could walk. "Having trouble?"

"I'm fine," she muttered stubbornly, though she was itching to get back to camp and change into her normal clothes.

---

"Who are you, and what have you done with our Morgan?" Will joked as Much and Morgan stumbled into the camp. "That's a gift from Allan, then?"

"Allan knows better than to buy me a dress," Morgan replied with a grin. "It's from Hollis. He sends his love, and my mum says thank you." With that out of the way, she went to the camp's most private area, drawing the curtain across as she struggled out of the form fitting dress. The rest of the outlaws gathered around the roaring fire, presents in tow. They waited just long enough for Morgan, back in her outlaw clothes, to sit down before Robin began.

"I would like to start off our celebrations by giving this gift to Much," he grinned, handing Much a present, wrapped in cloth and tied off with a bow. That much told the gang that Robin had gone to Marian for help. Much pulled the cloth from his present, revealing a clumsily knitted… something. "Happy Christmas!"

"Thank you, Master!" Much said, holding the whatever-it-was up, his brow knitting together in concentration. "What is it?" There was a distinctly red tinge to Robin's face. He wasn't used to being bad at things, but apparently knitting was not among his natural talents.

"It's a cap." Much could tell that Robin was extremely embarrassed and quickly shoved the cap onto his head, grinning. He shot the others a glare that would've made the Sheriff cry, cutting off any laughter that was on the way. Much held up his own gift, marching proudly around the circle, flaunting his new cap. He handed the present over.

"Happy Christmas, Little John," he announced grandly, setting the relatively large parcel in the woodsman's outstretched arms. John surveyed the present before opening, grinning as a new pair of boots tumbled out. The boots he had on his feet had seen better days, and the soles were actually starting to separate.

"These, I like. Thank you, Much," he laughed heartily, pulling the boots on his feet and extracting a present from behind the table. It was a perfect cube of notable size, whatever it was, and everyone watched with interest as he strode back to the group, standing in front of Will.

"Happy Christmas, Will," Will took the gift, his eyes lighting up as soon as he held it, a look of knowing to his features. He tore the wrappings away from the gift, his eyes gleaming as he took in the flawless block of wood, ideas flying through his head already.

"Eastern cedar," he grinned. "Thanks, Little John." Little John nodded, accepting the gratitude, holding back his comment. He would never embarrass Will and say it out loud, but he glanced over at Morgan and Much, knowing that they knew what he was thinking. _It's not a problem, Will. We know how much you like things from the East._ Little John sat back down, and none of the gang was surprised when Will retrieved his own gift, handing it over to Djaq.

"Happy Christmas," he muttered softly. Djaq carefully unwrapped the gift, taking in the beautifully carved box, equipped with separate compartments for her various herbs and medicines. She planted a quick kiss on his cheek in thanks.

"It's very thoughtful, Will," she smiled. Will nodded, saying nothing. He couldn't imagine what she would say later, when she opened the compartments and found the earrings that he managed to obtain. Well, in all fairness, Morgan had obtained them from God-only-knows-where, and Will hadn't asked questions. Djaq tossed her present to Morgan, who tore through the wrapping paper like a small child, mumbling in return when Djaq wished her a "Happy Christmas."

"Djaq! You're amazing!" Morgan squealed, absolutely delighted. Much scooted away from her, just in case she exploded with joy. He peeked curiously at the box in Morgan's hands, wondering what it was that Djaq had gotten her.

"It's a rock," he announced flatly. Morgan managed to look highly affronted while maintaining her giddy persona.

"This," she started, holding the smooth, rectangular rock up, "is no mere rock. This is a whetstone of the finest quality!"

"So, I did get the right kind?" Djaq asked. Morgan nodded.

"It's perfect. My other one was wearing down quite a bit. Thank you, Djaq," she grinned, safely sequestering her gift in her loft before turning heel to face Robin, handing him a gift. "Happy Christmas, fearless leader."

Robin opened the gift, staring in awe as he pulled out a new sword. It was curved, styled like a Saracen blade, but it was far lighter than any sword that he'd ever held before. He glanced over at Morgan, who cleared her throat.

"That is from all of us," she clarified. "Much's idea. Djaq and John found the necessary material. Will and I put it together."

"The blade is a variation of Damascus steel," Djaq pointed out excitedly. "So it's light weight, but strong."

"Well, let's go and try it out," Robin suggested, standing and smiling. "Someone grab the chest."

---

Guy had been in the castle all day, kept busy by the large, yuletide celebration that the Sheriff was still hosting. If one thing could be said about the Sheriff, it was that he knew how to throw a party. Guy raised an eyebrow at the thought. Actually, if people had to pick one thing to say about the Sheriff, they were likely to bring up the bit where he was a sadistic, horrible man. Still, one couldn't deny the man's prowess when it came to throwing opulent feasts. This particular feast had been in progress for a week now.

He glanced up and down the hallway, wishing that Allan hadn't drank himself stupid the night before. The man was probably still in bed, which is precisely where Guy wanted to be at the moment. He rubbed at his temple, annoyed that he could still hear the festivities from out in the hall. Suddenly, as if the whole of the universe was conspiring against him, a guard ran up to him, panting heavily.

"Outlaws! Taking supplies!" he breathed, pointing at the main gate. Guy drew his sword, running out to the portcullis where the rest of the guards were trying to stop Robin Hood and his gang.

"Gisborne, so glad that you could join us!" Robin called, a large chest tucked under his arm. In response, Guy let out a yell, taking a swing at Robin, managing to at least knock the chest from his grip. At that point, however, it was too late to stop the outlaws from escaping, closing the portcullis behind them. Morgan lingered at the gate a moment, grinning.

"Happy Christmas, Guy!" she whispered before dashing off. Guy rolled his eyes, picking up the chest. The Sheriff's name was carved into the top. Guy assumed that it was a gift meant for the Sheriff, and he supposed that he would deliver it.

---

"Another gift?" The Sheriff grinned greedily, snatching the present from Guy.

"Hood was trying to steal it," Guy informed, noticing that the Sheriff's gleeful smile flickered at the news of Hood's escape. Still, he had his present, and, as it was Christmas, he supposed that it would do. Rubbing his hands together, he flung open the chest, only to let out a scream of surprise as dozens of furry creatures scampered out of it, tearing across the Great Hall, causing chaos in their wake as the nobles screamed and rushed to get away from the small animals.

"Squirrels?" The Sheriff shouted angrily, "Guards! Catch those little rats!" Guy noticed the parchment in the bottom of the trunk and instantly felt his headache intensify. The Sheriff snatched the parchment up, growing angrier and angrier as he read the short note.

_Dearest Sheriff,_

_If you're reading this, than Gisborne has delivered your Christmas present. Hope you enjoy it. We figured that you'd want to spend time with your kin during this Christmas season, but we couldn't find any rats. _

_With love,_

_The Outlaws_

Guy heaved a sigh, watching the guards haplessly trying to apprehend the woodland critters. He ignored it as the Sheriff yelled at him for incompetence, inefficiency, and whatever else came to mind. Guy clung to the happiest thought in his head. _It's Christmas. It's Christmas. It's Christmas…_

---

The end! This is the last of my Christmas oneshots for this year.

I really liked the idea of the gang doing something of a "secret Santa," but as Santa didn't exist back then, I didn't call it that. Still, that was the general idea behind the gift exchange with them.

I can't remember who, but someone suggested a oneshot where the outlaws send the Sheriff a present. So, to whomever that lovely person was, here you go!

Hope you all enjoyed! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!

Have a happy Christmas, everyone!


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